Captain America Wants You
by Mojave Dragonfly
Summary: After the battle, Captain America feels responsible for his team.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Avengers are so not mine. All hail Marvel and Joss Whedon!

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Steve Rogers looked out the window of his guest room in Stark Tower, regarding the lights of New York City as it tried to recover and repair from the attack of Loki's army. The city was both familiar and unfamiliar to him—the bones of the city he knew were still there and still strong, but the surface had changed so much. Out there, the world was reeling from the confirmation that aliens—space aliens—were real and hostile. Steve felt like he was living in a Buck Rogers movie. Of course, he felt like that every day; adding aliens to his surreal existence wasn't that big a stretch. It would be to everyone else, though, he realized. He wondered how S.H.I.E.L.D. had hidden their knowledge of Thor so successfully.

Restless, he left the window and looked around the spacious room. After the battle he'd been exhausted and battered—they all had—but he recovered from such things with superhuman speed these days, and now he was too wired to sleep.

He couldn't seem to stop thinking about his teammates, flipping through their locations and status like cards on a wheeldex, as he had during the battle. Thor, unharmed, guarded the muzzled and shackled Loki in the depths of Stark's underground, until the tesseract could be readied to power their journey back to Asgard. Stark, who more or less _died in outer space, _but somehow survived the fall back to earth and revived, both with the Hulk's help, groggily insisted on treating them all to those Middle-Eastern sandwiches, waved a hostly hand toward his "palace," as Thor called it, then limped off to his own laboratory or bedroom, Steve didn't know which. He felt Stark should be looked at by a doctor, but he also knew where his ability to command this force ended.

Clint and Natasha, both still actual SHIELD agents, allowed Fury's transports to take them and Selvig off to be debriefed. Steve trusted that SHIELD would take care of them. He himself, while not a SHIELD agent, was considered a "guest" of SHIELD and had some quarters they would have taken him to, had he not declined. He couldn't leave until he knew the disposition of all his men, and one of them was down. Banner.

He opened a closet and found a white robe made from terry cloth. "Miss Potts, I assume," he said aloud. Stark didn't seem to have much in the way of staff, but someone had provided the guest rooms with amenities such as the cotton pajamas he wore.

"No, sir," said a British-accented voice from above, and Steve nearly jumped out of the pajamas. "I keep Stark Tower fully stocked and furnished."

"JARVIS." He remembered. "Do you spy on people in their bedrooms?"

"I am primary surveillance for the facility, yes."

Right. A world without privacy, how could he have forgotten. Well, like everything else, he'd just have to learn how to use it. "Is Dr. Banner still sleeping?"

"Dr. Banner is at the level fourteen bar. He is awake."

"The bar on the top floor? In the ruined area?"

"No, the bar on level fourteen. It also serves as a kitchen."

Steve slipped on the robe and matching slippers. Artificial Intelligence, someone had called JARVIS. He wondered how far toward artificial life this world had gone. Ever since giving Fury the ten bucks, he'd been careful never to assume things couldn't get weirder. "So, Jarvis, you were here when Loki and his people took over."

"Of course. My central cortex was assaulted by an unfamiliar technology which overwhelmed 92.3 percent of my local consciousness. Only temporarily," he added, sounding smug.

Steve picked his way through that statement cautiously, still trying to find the right question to ask. "You're part of the building, right? Even the observation deck that got demolished?"

"My intelligence is distributed. Stark Tower is only one set of input devices that provide telemetry to my overall cortex. I cannot describe myself more simply for you, and a much more detailed explanation would be classified per Mr. Stark."

Steve shook his head, smiling. "I'm not trying to spy on you or Mr. Stark. What I want to know is—did it hurt?"

Steve didn't know if the pause before Jarvis answered was because the machine needed to think or because it was designed to simulate a human conversation. But a few seconds went by before Jarvis responded, "The extent to which I simulate a living being is, so far, only that. Simulation. I was not hurt."

"Good." Steve opened his door.

"But it was kind of you to ask."

-divide-

Along the way to the fourteenth floor he learned that most of the floors in Stark Tower had bars.

Details of their battle still filled his head. He'd made decisions, deployed their forces, directed and ordered like he did this every day. At the time, he'd had to be extremely confident; now, in the night, he could afford to worry about whether he'd done the right things. He felt good, though. He'd actually never commanded men in battle, despite his fame and his moniker, but he'd known somehow, even as a scrawny kid in Brooklyn, that he'd be good at it.

He found Bruce Banner, wearing familiar-looking pajamas and robe, in a gleaming kitchen, hunched at a counter, hands wrapped around a coffee mug. The coffee smelled great.

Bruce gave him a weary smile. "You brought me here?"

"I brought your motorbike. Thor brought you. That smells heavenly." He looked around. Three stoves were in view, but none of them had coffee on a burner. "Where is it?"

Bruce gestured with his mug, and Steve spotted the percolator—more like a glass pitcher on its own dedicated burner- procured a mug and poured. He sat across the counter from Bruce. "You all right?"

Bruce gave him a startled glance, like that was something he didn't expect to hear, and looked down again. "Seem to be." He took a swallow of coffee. "Thanks." Bruce's hair was wet; he'd showered.

"What for? Finding you a bed? You're welcome."

The battle won, Hulk's rage had dissipated, leaving a naked and exhausted Bruce Banner. He made it to the restaurant Stark shepherded them to, but after attempting to eat the shwarma, he slipped off his chair into a soporific state on the floor. That signaled the end of their break from duty. Steve had read SHIELD's file on the Hulk, but apparently the toll the transformation took on Bruce's body was not known to any official sources. None of the others knew if he even had a place to stay in NYC. If there was one thing Steve could tell from his file, it was that Bruce would not want to wake up in SHIELD's hands.

Bruce made a wry twist with his mouth. "For taking the chance having me here. If Fury's letting me go, I'll get going in the morning."

Steve frowned, considering which misapprehension to address first. "It's Stark's place, so don't thank me. But—we weren't taking much of a chance. Do you transform in your sleep?"

"Never have." Bruce nodded. He looked directly at Steve. "I nearly killed Natasha in Fury's airship."

Steve hesitated, mug halfway to his lips, then finished the sip. He hadn't known that. It gave him pause. He was uncomfortable with seeing a beautiful woman put casually in harm's way, though SHIELD seemed to think nothing of using Natasha as a fighter. A damn fine fighter, he had to admit. A memory of Peggy flashed through his mind and was gone.

The coffee was good. "You could stay. Be a part of this team. You could be an asset."

"How's that?" A hint of bitter spiced Bruce's tone. "You can wind me up and point me at a bad guy, but you can't control what the Other Guy does. He might as easily attack the team. He certainly doesn't think about civilians."

Steve winced. Despite the police's evacuation efforts, there had been a tremendous number of civilian casualties of this battle, and yes, some of them were Hulk's. Vastly more of them were Loki's and the alien army's. He leaned forward. "Proportional force. We each have our strengths. Yours is pretty incredible. No one is sending you after purse-snatchers. But when our planet—" now he did sound like Buck Rogers, "our very planet is under attack by an overwhelming force, we need you. This could happen again. And there will be casualties, but these are not battles we can afford to lose."

Bruce was shaking his head, half a skeptical smile on his face.

Steve leaned back. "You know what, Bruce? You did great today." The utter disbelieving look that drew from Bruce assured Steve he was saying the right thing. "You did. I don't just mean that you knocked Chitarri heads from 39th to Park, I mean your Other Guy fought as a team member. I don't know how much you remember, but _you_ saved Stark when he fell to earth."

"I did? I mean, he did?" Bruce still looked startled.

"Yep. And that's not all. You transformed on demand. I didn't know you could do that. It wasn't in your file. And you knew good guys from bad. You stood peacefully with us while we made plans, and when I told you to go smash, you did, and you didn't start with us." Steve decided to skip over Thor's joking complaints that Hulk had punched him through a wall for no reason. Thor could take it. He'd just have to establish some team protocols for fighting near the Hulk.

Wide-eyed, Bruce drank in his words. Geez, it had probably been a long time since the guy had heard anything good said about him. "You stayed with Tony while we tried to revive him. According to Natasha, you're the one who slammed Loki senseless. She says you whipped Stark's floor" he pointed up above them "with that 'god' like he was a rag doll." Steve let his genuine admiration into his tone.

The longing in Bruce's eyes faded, shuttered in. "I can't stay," he said quietly.

Steve studied his coffee mug. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know. I just keep moving."

"Why?"

"Whoever is around me is in danger. The longer I stay somewhere, the greater their danger. Statistically, I mean. If I move around, the risk is spread equally."

Steve blinked. "Statistically."

Bruce's shoulders slumped. "It's my latest approach," he admitted.

"After trying suicide."

Bruce wrinkled his nose. "It would solve a lot of problems, but no. I'm not generally suicidal. It's just – it seemed the right thing to do."

Steve had to agree. It had to be tried, but he wasn't sorry it didn't work. Besides … "Well, I'm not the one to criticize." He shrugged and smiled.

Bruce was quick. "Oh, yeah." He saluted with his mug. "We should form a club."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Actually, that's what I'm saying. We should. And we need you."

"'Captain America wants you!'" Bruce announced, joking, but he had a touch of the same half-dazed look Steve had seen on countless fans struggling with the reality of their hero being live and in the flesh.

Steve chuckled. He hadn't expected it from Bruce. "You're thinking of Uncle Sam."

Bruce ducked his head, but not before Steve saw a genuine smile.

"Stay?" he asked. "I'm sure Stark won't admit it, but he could use your help dismantling that thing on the roof and getting the tesseract out safely."

Bruce looked up without lifting his head, still smiling. "I could stay that long."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers are in part 1.

Still in pajamas and robe, since he had nothing else to wear but his damaged uniform, Steve headed down to check on Thor, carrying coffee in the largest mug he could find.

He pushed back against his apprehension. It wasn't as if he'd had much time to talk to this otherworldly man who claimed a Norse god's name. And hammer. And powers. He wondered how his childhood minister would have handled this.

Stark's radiation laboratories were underground, for maximum shielding. They'd left Loki bound in one of them, only a tiny window in the reinforced door. Leaning against the door, arms crossed, stood the mighty Thor. Mjölnir sat head down on a nearby chair like a sculpture. Thor looked away from the door's window at Steve's approach and stood straighter. His first glance at Steve held the suspicion of any guard with a prisoner, but it melted into a smile.

"Steve America," he greeted.

"Um, Steve. Just Steve. Everything secure down here?" Steve approached the window slit and Thor gave him room to look in. Inside, Loki sat where Steve had last seen him, his hands and mouth bound in metal, leaning back against a wall, eyes closed. The room was a lab, not a cell, but it had been hastily cleared of all equipment besides tables and chairs.

"Loki will not escape from me again," Thor said, with less bravado and more resignation than Steve expected.

He handed Thor the mug. "Here."

"I like this drink," Thor said, which Steve took as thanks until Thor added carefully, "thank you."

Steve nodded. "No sleep for you, then."

"I do not require sleep." Thor drank deeply of the hot coffee, emptying the mug. Steve wondered if he meant he never slept or he just wasn't sleepy. "When can the Tesseract be ready?" Thor held the mug away from him, looking around as if unsure what to do with it.

Steve took it from him. "I'll have to ask Tony about that. So, you'll use it to take the two of you back to - Asgard?"

Thor nodded. "With the Bifrost damaged, the power of this cube is needed for the journey."

"And what will happen to him there?"

Thor looked through the window. "I cannot foresee his fate." The guy sounded downright sad, it seemed to Steve.

He tried to be a little cheery. "Couldn't you just say, 'I don't know'?"

He couldn't read the look Thor gave him, but it was neither irritated nor arrogant. Thoughtful, perhaps. "I don't know," Thor said. He looked back through the window. "His treachery knows no equal. My father loves him as a son, but Odin's justice can be harsh, even upon those he loves."

Odin. Right. Steve stubbornly refused to believe in "gods" as a reality. On the other hand, things that invaded from the sky and smashed and killed were undeniably real. Whatever they were.

"Those things we fought today, the Chitauri? They're from another planet?"

"They are from beyond the nine realms."

Which told Steve almost nothing. He knew of nine planets, but if Thor meant one of those, couldn't he have just said so? "So, uh, can we expect more invasions like that?"

Thor gave Steve his full attention. "I don't know," he said. "With the Tesseract gone from Midgard, at least that lure is eliminated."

"Can we count on you to come back if we need you?"

Thor looked regretful. "The journey is now a difficult one. Perhaps that is for the best."

"The Chitauri didn't find it hard to get here."

Thor nodded. "Once, my father fought a war here to keep your people safe from an Age of Ice. Since then, you have been under Asgard's protection. Only now has there been any need for it. I do not desire to see your world harmed in any way. If it were not vital that I remove Loki to Asgard as soon as may be, I would choose to stay longer."

Steve thought about that while they both looked toward the quiescent Loki. "There's something you like about Earth, then." At Thor's lack of reaction, he guessed, "Someone?"

"What of you?" Thor clapped him on the shoulder. "I know you are the champion of your nation. Have you a wife or a beloved lover?"

"Wha-? No. No."

"You slept many years, did you not? When my father wakes, his family yet lives to greet him. This was not true for you. You should find a lover. Is the flame-haired agent of SHIELD any man's wife?"

Steve put up a hand. "That's—that's enough. I see what you're doing. If you don't want to talk about it, fine. You should know, though, SHIELD kept your previous visit under wraps, but our entire planet knows what happened here, today. There will be pictures all over the place of everybody who fought in the battle."

Thor's concern was so transparent Steve hoped he never tried to play poker. "Will the tale reach also to the land of Tromsø?"

"Yes." Where? "Yes, I'm sure it has," Steve said, trying not smile.

Thor nodded soberly. "When I am able, I will return."

"Good." Steve didn't hide his smile any longer.


End file.
